Empty
by Kamenashi-JaeJoong
Summary: It was obvious the weeks were wearing them down. Every day continually apparating from place to place, the loss of Ron, and the strain that they themselves may not see tomorrow.


I broke my own rule of never writing Harry Potter fanficion, lol.

I'll make this quick and clear I swear. I ship Ron/Hermione in the books. I think they're damn adorable and I won't budge from them. But after seeing the Seventh movie... my mind was completely changed. I'm sorry, the moments Harry and Hermione had were too damn cute and heartwrenching. So, this takes place IN THE MOVIE. I don't base this off the books. And I have this whole theory as to that whole episode when Ron was gone and why Harry/Hermione make sense there. But it's too long here and I've already gone over.

Read, Review, and Enjoy.

~0~

It was obvious the weeks were wearing them down. Every day continually apparating from place to place, having to replace and then take down the enchantments that kept them hidden, the continuous search for clues and Horcruxes and the sword of Gryffindor, the loss of Ron glaringly apparent every night at best, the constant stress that someone they knew might be dead or taken, and the strain that they themselves may not see tomorrow.

Hermione was, again, poring over an enormous book, courtesy of her enchanted bag, searching for the uncounted time for something she might have missed. There were dark circles under her eyes and lines in her forehead and around her mouth that varied from very fine to very deep; the very deep overcoming the very fine.

Harry noticed that every few seconds her eyes would flick to where Ron had slept, then to the mouth of the tent, as though she hoped he would walk right through again, before she went back to her book, less concentrated than the look before.

Harry had been sliding the Snitch between his fingers absentmindedly, staring at the ceiling that held no answers no matter how hard he glared. But he was getting anxious every time Hermione sighed or groaned softly in agitation. He would glance at her when she made some noise or shifted in her seat until he was full out watching her struggle with what was at hand, what she had agreed to when she came with Harry on this journey to seemingly nowhere, with her emotions she had never been able to hide flitting across her face, until Harry finally got up out of his chair and went to stand beside her. She was too deep in her racing thoughts to notice him and in her distraction he saw just how mixed up her thoughts were. Her normal, tidy handwriting was becoming chicken scrawls and her normal numbered and orderly notes were all over the page, crossed out viciously or circled with many, many question marks littering the page.

He reached to stop her hand from scratching another worthless note, making her jump so hard she almost fell backwards.

She swallowed to calm herself and then looked up with sorrowful brown eyes, deeper emotions than he had ever seen there before, and tried to give him a brave smile.

But Harry didn't believe it and he held his hand out to her, which she stared at for a moment like she didn't understand what the gesture meant. He lightly fidgeted his fingers towards her, jumping her out of her thoughts and she swung around to take his hand. His hand was much larger than her's, engulfing her hand almost completely. He tried to cover it, thinking that maybe if he could succeed, it would prove to her somehow that he was going to make this alright and take the dullness from her eyes.

He led her away from the table, away from the book, away from the Horcrux that lay uselessly beside the papers. He supposed he should be upset that she wasn't wearing it, meaning she wasn't keeping it safe, but he was thankful that at least one of them understood what that thing made them think. That was one brilliant thing about Hermione, she was always one step ahead, taking apart every little fact and turned it over and over until she knew absolutely everything about it.

He led her to the farthest wall of the tent where he turned to face her and make her look at him. She was never able to hide her feelings from anyone; One look from her could silence Ron mid-sentence and make Harry's chest wince. Now, as she looked up at him, he saw everything overwhelm her, but she wouldn't let the tears that had gathered fall over; it only made Harry feel even worse. She was still going to be strong, still be there for him, keep that intense stare with her that kept her strong, despite the strain, stress, and hurt.

He reached for her, wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She flung her arms around him and she buried her face into his shoulder where she inhaled deeply and sighed, the sound coming from the very bottom of her person.

His arms tightened around her, the need to protect her and make her feel safe so prominent in his mind, everything else disappeared. He held her, almost to the point where she possibly couldn't breathe, but she returned it, her arms straining to hold onto him as tightly as she could. a muffled dry sob in her throat.

He pulled away and so did she, her hair in disarray from running her hands through it constantly in stressed agitation. He pushed some fly away strands from her face, trying to pat it back into place only to have it spring back viciously. It got a smile out of her though, and she moved his hand out of the way and put it behind her ear firmly. He gave her a grin, not a big one, but one that told her that he was alright and so was she so she gave him one back until it turned into a yawn so wide he heard her jaw crack.

"Why don't you go to bed?" He told her gently while she rubbed her eyes with her fingertips. She nodded, taking a moment to stand still and press the heels of her palms into her eyes. She sighed, nodding again, and moved past him to her bed.

He stood in the middle of the room, watching her drag her small hand bag to her and pulling out her pajamas, leaving for the privacy of the back of the tent to change.

Harry dragged his hand down his face (where he noticed he was in need of a shave) then back up to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger until his they ached. He sighed too, feeling suddenly much older and much more tired than he had ever felt before.

Feeling a little useless, he went and cleaned up where Hermione had been working, closing and stacking her books into a neat pile, peeking at her notes and how many times she had made theories and crossed them out and wrote more underneath, notes and facts from the books written in the margins and arrows pointing to other notes or page numbers. She worked so hard and yet nothing was coming of it. He sighed again, organizing her papers, moving her ink and quills into an unneeded, meticulous fashion, wanting to do something to feel produtive.

She came back out just as he was finishing, a look of guilt on her face as soon as she saw what he was doing.

"You didn't have to clean."

"I know," he answered simply, finishing the stack of parchment and then stepping away.

She looked at him and the table of her work and the tears filled her eyes again. Her hands flew to her eyes and she took a step back when Harry stepped forward.

"I'm sorry. I'm fine, really." She assured, wiping her eyes furiously. "I'm just tired." She turned on her toes and went straight for her bed, burrowing under the blankets and getting as close as she could to the wall of the tent.

Harry, still standing by the table, was at a loss for what to do. Technically, he was supposed to be on first watch, but he didn't know if he should go ahead and take the watch or stay in the tent. After a minute, he decided to take the watch, fingering his wand to be sure it was still in his pocket.

It was cold outside, snow blanketing everything in sight. The ground was cold, hard, and wet and very uncomfortable, but by now he was used to it. A few minutes of agitated fidgeting went on before he pulled his wand out and pointed it at a spot in front of him and a small flame appeared.

"Engorgio."

And it grew, not as big as he liked, or how big Hermione would have made it, but it was better than the chill he was experiencing. Holding his hands close to the source of heat, he foced his mind to clear and started the whole thought process that plagued his mind all over again.

They had one Horcrux in their possession. The didn't know what the other Horcruxes were. They didn't know where the were. Ron was gone. They needed the Sword of Gryffindor to destroy them. The Sword of Gryffindor was missing. His name was plastered all across Great Britain as Undesireable Number One. In association with that, Hermione and Ron were also considered fugitives and everyone that was associated with Harry were being watched and more than likely had been attacked. Hermione was hurting. There was no telling where Ron was or if he was alright. Harry was responsible for all the death and pain wreaking havoc across Europe.

He hissed when the fire licked his hand, burning him. He immediately stuck it in the snow feeling the reilef first and then more pain as the contrasting temperatures warred with each other, the burn still hot and the burn from the snow icing his fignertips blue.

He fell against the tree, his entire body drained of energy and worth. Staring at the small flames aimlessly, feeling his mind go blank and his eyes unfocus as the fire's movement lulled him into a sense of exhaustion; it was only the severely throbbing pain in his hand that kept him from falling asleep.

A noise suddenly broke the complete silence and he jerked awake, his hand tightening around his wand as he stood, throwing snow over the flame just to be safe. He eyes scanned the tree line, his ears perking for any noise at all, ready to jinx the first thing that moved.

The noise came again, but from behind and his heart jumped into his throat to think something or someone had gotten into the tent. Then he realized what the noise was and his stomach plummeted. Abandoning the watch, he pushed past the flap and carefully made his way to Hermione, who had the covers pulled over her head to muffle her sobbing.

Without thinking about it, he gently laid down beside her, on top of her covers, wrapping his arm around her middle. She stilled at the feel of the bed dipping and stayed that way when he wrapped his arms around her, but then she turned herself around and burrowed into his body, her arms wrapping around him and clinging to him desperately. He kissed her hair, clenching his eyes shut at the wave after wave of pain coming from her.

Eventually, they fell asleep, Hermione first. And as she used Harry's shoulder as a pillow, the tear tracks still visible on her cheeks even in the dark, Harry vowed to himself that he would never let her feel this way again.

They didn't talk about that night when the sun came up, or in the days after.


End file.
